A Three Hour Tour
by Sideshow Cellophane 26
Summary: Just a normal three hour tour with Gilligan and Skipper. Five passengers. A little storm. What could possibly go wrong? Basically: how everybody met, what it was like during the storm, and their shipwreck.
1. Meeting

**Inspired by Teobi, so I thank her to the bottom of the lagoon and back! This is how all of the castaways **_**officially**_** meet, since the writers didn't show that part. Enjoy, and happy Labor Day!**

* * *

They both gave each other one last look, squinting their eyes. Skipper narrowed his even more. Gilligan did the same, only they shut. He opened them, turning around. He went across the street, the Skipper the opposite. They both turned around again, glaring at each other, and then turned the corners.

Gilligan sighed with relief when the Skipper was out of sight. It was a bright, sunny day in Honolulu. The town square was buzzing with people from everywhere; Gilligan thought there were even some from Ohio! He held up the sign.

Two teenagers passed by, giggling.

"Care for a three hour tour of the isla—you're walking away from me."

Two men walked by, looked at Gilligan, and laughed. They walked away before he could say anything.

He sighed, certain that the Skipper had already got a customer, maybe two by now. The Skipper always out-did him, at least by three or four passengers. The limit for The Minnow was twelve, but they always got nine or ten. Business was only busy around the summer, but even then they just barely get twelve, possibly thirteen. Their tours were well-worth it, but there were a lot of other boat tourings out here.

Gilligan moved to another spot, seeing that the current one wasn't working.

He saw a woman round the corner. Gilligan looked down.

She was beautiful.

He started sputtering when she got close.

"Um . . . hello?" She was wearing a bathing suit cover-up, the straps of a black suit showing. Her hair was dark brown, and she was carrying a suitcase.

Gilligan finally managed to say, "H-hi. W-would you like to island a three hour tour? Er, tour a three hour island? Island a tour hour three? No, come-on-a-three-hour-tour."

She laughed. "So that's what the sign says."

"What?"

"Your sign. It's upside-down." She pointed.

"Oh!" He fixed it, "So that's why people have been laughing at me."

Her delicate face showed sorrow. "Oh, people out here can be so mean!"

"It's not so bad. Just the other day, a man came up to me and offered his ice-cream. Even if it was almost finished and the spoon had dropped on the ground, it was still nice."

"Awww!" She stuck her lower lip out for a second, and then extended her hand. "I'm Mary-Ann."

He shook it, "Gilligan."

She frowned, "Gilligan? Is that a last name or first?"

"Well, it's my last name, but I don't like to be called 'Willy.' As a matter of fact, forget I said that, please."

She smiled. "Of course. So you're advertising a three hour tour?" She looked at the sign again.

"Oh. Uh, yeah—y-yes ma'am."

Mary-Ann looked thoughtful for a second, and looked back up at Gilligan. "I'd like to help you out here."

"Oh, no thanks. I have money and a home already."

She laughed, "No, silly! I mean, I'd like a three-hour tour!"

* * *

Gilligan's grin was still up. He had managed to hook in a passenger in less than two hours! And, with the sign upright, nobody was laughing at him! They were going to meet at noon, and it was 11:33 already. Gilligan hoped the Skipper had hooked in several people, it would be awkward to have two sailors and a girl onboard.

But nobody wanted a tour.

A couple rounded the same corner Mary-Ann did. They looked like they were arguing.

"But Lovey! We left the car running!"

"Thurston, it's perfectly alright! I told Smithers to take a small break if we weren't back in an hour."

"_**You did what**_ . . . my dear?"

"But Thurston, I thought this would be the perfect time to relax together. Just you and I . . . on a boat...surrounded by the sea . . ."

He laughed. "Yes, of course my dear."

They both stopped in front of Gilligan. He was speechless. He knew who they were, they were the Howells! _THE_ _billionaire_ Howells!

"My dear boy, my husband and I would like a three hour tour!"

"Three hours!" Mr. Howell stomped his foot, but immediately settled down after a warning gaze from his wife.

"Y-y-yes ma'am. Sir," Gilligan couldn't believe it. Even if he hadn't uttered a word, he had gotten the HOWELLS to tour.

* * *

They were all together. Gilligan shook the passengers hands: a professor, Roy Hinkley. The Howells. Mary Ann. And then . . . Gilligan blushed deeply, too shy to ask for an autograph. It was Ginger Grant, one of Gilligan's top favorite actresses, if not his favorite.

_Stupid Skipper. Always has to outdo me. But I _did_ get more in number._

When they were all onboard, it was Gilligan's job to entertain the guests and show them the highlights of the Hawaiian Islands while Skipper manned the wheel.

The Howells chose to sit on the side of the boat, watching several dolphins that were swimming along.

"Oh, Thurston. Isn't this _wonderful_?"

"For how low the price was, yes. Forty-eight dollars, _HA!"_

Gilligan was too busy talking to say anything to them. "You see? Bottlenose dolphins. I think."

"Actually Gilligan, from the color of their backs and the general fact that dolphins usually travel in pods, this is a rare pygmy sperm whale! We almost never see this species anywhere but beaches! Does anyone have a camera?"

Gilligan had no idea what the professor said, but he let him go into the hold. "Anyway, if you look _real_ close, you can see rain coming down right over . . . there. I-I'll be right back." He started running to warn the Skipper of the on-coming storm.

"Skipper! Skipper! There's a storm, a real bad storm, Skipper! And we're drifting right into it!"

The Skipper didn't look up from the sea. "I can see it as clearly as you can, Gilligan. Don't give it another thought, it's gonna pass right past us. We won't even see a drop."

"So we'll be safe?"

"Perfectly fine."

"Whatever you say . . ." He went back out.

Ginger was waiting for him right out the door. "Oh Gilligan, I wanted to ask you something, if you have the time."

"Sh-sure, Ginger. Anything."

"Well honey, off the subject you need to get to a doctor about that stuttering of yours. Maybe ask the Professor. But anyway, I wanted to ask you if we were going to be delayed? Because that looks an awful lot like a hurricane storm."

"What? Delayed?" Gilligan winced as the Howells got up, joining the conversation.

"Don't be silly! We're the Howells, no storm would dare rain on a Howell!" Mrs. Howell was lost in thought by the end of the sentence. "Unless, of course, this was a Powell storm, that I would get. That witch would do anything to get me out of the way . . ."

The Professor joined in the fighting as well:

"I for one think I should get my money back!"

"Oh, I need to check into the hotel and call my aunt and uncle by seven!""

"-I refuse to believe that Mrs. Powell wants _me!_"

"—And my agent's going to hear about this!"

"Oh, can you _not_ see the way she looks at you every time you two are alone at the punch table? It's like a wolf and a deer."

"_Everybody, shut up!" _The Skipper came up behind Gilligan, making him jump a total of four feet into the air.

Everybody shut up.

"Now listen here. I don't know who told you this," he glared at Gilligan, "but we aren't stopping this tour for a little bad weather. I doubt it'll even hit us. If it does, we'll all just get inside, continue the tour from in there, and wait until it clears up. Just settle down, relax, and let Gilligan and I take care of everything."


	2. Drifting

The Skipper went back to the hold, leaving Gilligan in charge. He turned back to the passengers nervously, not sure what to do exactly. They were all _staring_ at him, he wasn't used to having so many people _staring_.

"Uh . . . I guess we get on with the tour."

Everybody murmured agreements, and took up from where they left off.

"Well . . . Right now we're . . . uh . . . I need to do something real quick." He turned away, eying the anchor. He made sure it was tied (from BOTH ends), and threw it in.

He turned around and rounded the corner, unknowing the knot that had been holding the anchor to the rope was a granny's knot. It slipped off when a fish bumped into it, letting the ship drift. Nobody was aware of this but the fish.

"Alright, we're good. If you _really_ wanna see something cool, spit over the edge, and you can see the ripples from the spit even though the waves are moving!" He spit into the ocean, and turned around. "If you want to, you can. But we need to get back to the tour."

Everybody looked at each other awkwardly and reluctantly spit over the side of the boat. Mr. Howell turned to his wife, "You have a little spit dribbling on your chin, dear. I hope you're enjoying the tour."

He went into the hold, leaving his grinning wife. "I've never felt so alive, taking such risks!" (she wiped the dribble off her chin) "In front of other people, too!" Her grin faded, "In front of other people, too! Oh!" She blushed deeply and joined her husband.

The remaining three passengers kept quiet.

"I guess they had to go. No one else needs to? Alright. Here, if you look to your left, are five foot wa—" He was hit with a wave, that surprisingly didn't hit anybody else. "—ves."

"Gilligan, I think maybe we should go inside? I mean, my agent said that salt water was bad for my hair. I don't want to ruin anything for my next movie!"

"No, it's fine Gin—" he was hit again, this time the wave splattered at the passengers' feet, "ger. Your hair will be fine, nothing's gonna harm it." Lightening struck in the water right next to The Minnow, rocking it back and forth.

Gilligan jumped, and yelled as he ran into the hold, "Just in case, let's go inside!"

* * *

Everyone was inside now, entertaining themselves. Gilligan was unknowingly the source of their laughter. "-And the Skipper didn't even see it, though I did warn him afterwards. But before that, he fell over the anchor, overboard, and into the raft at the bottom. The rope snapped when he landed in it, and it tipped into the ocean. I had to do dishes for a whole week, even though I warned him about it!"

"Oh, Gilligan," Mary Ann patted his knee, "Maybe he punished you because you warned him _after_ the accident?"

"Oh yeah." He looked down, "That may have had something to do with it . . ." They all laughed with pity and amusement.

When everyone finally spread out, the Professor went over to Gilligan, who was watching the storm out the porthole. "I see that storm hasn't let up."

"Yeah. And it hasn't stopped raining."

He ignored that, "Shouldn't you be out there helping the Skipper?"

"Why? I don't—BAH!" The Skipper suddenly slapped his hand on the window frame outside, squinting from the rain that was pouring in his eyes.

"GILLIGAN! I WOULD APPRECIATE SOME HELP OUT HERE!"

"Yes sir!" He started to run outside, but stopped at the door, "Professor, you seem pretty smart. If you're responsible, you're in charge. If Ginger's up for it, can you entertain everybody else? Mr. and Mrs. Howell, maybe help out too? And Mary Ann? All of you, entertain everybody else while I help the Skipper." He ran out, but came back in, "Sit tight, I'll be right back." He ran back out, but came in a second later, "But if you think maybe I'm on trouble or anything, maybe check on me?"

He ran back out. The Professor turned to everybody. "I think we need to –"

Gilligan ran back in, "Even if it's only been a few seconds, and you even think that something's wrong, come out and check on me." He shut the door.

"I think we need to-"

"Even if you don't think that anything's wrong with _me_, something may have happened to the Skipper."

"I think we-"

"Wait until I've gone outside, Professor." Gilligan ran back outside, shutting the door.

"I think we need to—" He turned around, waiting for a second. The door didn't open. "Alright. I think we need to-"

"It's fine, the Skipper had it." Gilligan came back in casually.

The Professor stuttered a little, and clenched his fist in front of his face, shaking it back and forth.

"Oy, Ginger. I don't know if I should ask him about my stuttering if he has it too."

Everybody laughed nervously.

The Professor turned to Gilligan, clamping his hand over his mouth. "I think we need to get against the walls. It'll help with the rocking."

"I know. The Skipper told me to have you all do that in case of a storm. I was about to say that when I got back in." He turned to everybody else, "Everybody, get a seat and put it against the wall! I can help if you need me to."

The Skipper came in at that moment, "Gilligan, can you come out here for a second?"

"Sure. Professor, you're in charge. Remember, if you even think I'm-"

"C'mon!" Skipper grabbed him, dragging the poor man outside to the anchor by the shirt collar. He let go, thrusting Gilligan to the rope with seething anger.

"What? Why are you so mad? And where's Honolulu?" They were surrounded by only the sea—The Minnow had drifted.

"Pull up the anchor!" He shouted.

Gilligan winced, jumping right to it. Pulling the whole thing took a couple of minutes, but eventually he got to the end. He looked like he was straining to pull it up, even shutting his eyes and grunting as he was pulling.

He grabbed the last bit of the rope, and, not knowing that it had ended, continued grabbing thin air until the Skipper nudged him. Gilligan opened his eyes, looking down at the end of the rope with disbelieving eyes.

"But the anchor was tied when I dropped it in! From BOTH ends!"

"WELL APPARENTLY IT WASN'T!" He bellowed.

"I TIED IT FROM BOTH ENDS! I CHECKED IT SIX TIMES BEFORE WE LEFT!"

"WELL, WHY WASN'T THERE A SEVENTH?"

"BECAUSE WE WERE LEAVING!"

"WELL, SOMETHING CAUSED IT TO UNTIE!"

"WHY ARE WE YELLING?"

"BECAUSE I'M FURIOUS WITH YOU!"

"YOU CAN JUST speak like this, I CAN HEAR YOU PERFECTLY, WHETHER YOU'RE MAD OR NOT!"

The Skipper sighed. "Well, if you didn't do it, I guess something ran into it from underwater. Gee little buddy, I'm sorry for yelling at you."

They shook hands.

"But now we need to steer this ship back to the islands."

"Agreed, Skipper." Gilligan started bobbing his head up and down.

"I mean, we don't want anybody to get hurt! Especially with _three celebrities_ onboard!"

"Agreed, Skipper."

"We need to get to the mast, Little Buddy. Fix that first."

"Agreed, Skipper."

"We can't let anyone get hurt on our ship."

"Agreed, Skipper."

"They might sue us!"

"Agreed, Skipper."

"It almost hurts just standing out here in this pouring rain!"

"It hurts me very much, Skipper." Gilligan turned around, revealing his shirt torn and bruises along his back.

"_Jeez—Gilligan!_ Get a-"

"I'm fine Skipper."

"Doesn't it _hurt_ you?"

"You may not see this Skipper, but I'm actually crying."

"GET INSIDE! THAT'S AN ORDER NOW! HAVE THE GIRLS FIX THAT UP!"

No argument there.

* * *

**This was meant to be a one-shot. Like, just them meeting, and getting on the boat, and that was it.**

**Oh well. I'm having too much fun to turn back now. Part three's coming up to theaters soon! Wait—sorry, just to this story.**


	3. Beached

Mary Ann kept her feet firmly against the ground, trying to steer clear of knocking into Gilligan's wounds. She and Ginger were wrapping the bandages around Gilligan's bare back at the Professor's instruction. Mary Ann couldn't help from blushing when he took off his shirt when the Professor told him to—he was already cute, but seeing him shirtless made her blush.

She hadn't seen a shirtless boy since a week before she left Kansas, when her family and Cindy went to the lake and saw those college kids—not much older than herself—begin to strip off their shirts. Mary Ann remembered giggling, but blushing, when Cindy pointed out a particular boy out that looked just like Brad Pitt. And then Mary Ann turned right around and told Cindy her perfect match was right over there—a washed-up jellyfish that had been on the beach all day.

Though Gilligan was certainly no Brad Pitt, he was sweet.

"Mary Ann, you're hurting me!" Gilligan wheezed.

"What? Oh!" She had squeezed together his bandages as far as they'd stretch on Gilligan's rib cage. With the help of Ginger, they unwrapped it and began re-wrapping. "I'm sorry, Gilligan. My mind was somewhere else."

"That's alright. Can ya hurry up girls? I need to help the Skipper man the mast, batten down the hatten, and wheel the hatches. Er, that's not right. Man the _wheel_, batten down the _hatches_, and—something else that didn't make sense . . ."

"It's fine sweetie," Ginger said, "try not to talk too much. We're almost done. Right Professor?"

He smiled. "Almost there. Just continue wrapping as you are, girls."

* * *

"Thanks girls! I promise you all, everything'll be alright." Gilligan ran back out into the rain.

Mary Ann sighed and sat back down. Ginger did the same; so did the professor. The Howells had claimed that they "would stay up from ship-lag all week."

Mrs. Howell was asleep now, using her husband as a pillow. Mr. Howell was snoring quite loudly (even in comparison to the storm), using his suitcases and teddy as pillows, muttering, "How dare they overcharge me . . . mmmm . . . Lovey! Fend them off while I get in the vault . . ! Good thing I ran away, he would-would've bruised my ear drums . . ."

Ginger looked over at them with curiosity. "That's a vivid dream Mr. Howell's having. Should we wake him?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," The Professor said, "they bruised _my_ eardrums from all of that storm fuss. Let them sleep, they'll need it."

"Can't you do something about the snoring?"

"Besides plugging the mouth with a cork? No . . . there isn't one big enough on this boat to cover that hole."

Mary Ann laughed at that, but kept silent. Her mind wouldn't stay away from Gilligan, and she didn't know why.

* * *

"_Skipper! You were wrong! You were wrong!_" Gilligan tried to yell over the raging wind, only to have a wave crash on the deck, splashing into his mouth. "Ugh! _Blech_!" He spit it out, opening his mouth to the fresh rain coming down and running towards the Skipper.

"_Shut up Gilligan! Check on the passengers!_"

"_What?"_

"_I said to—" _He was interrupted by a flash of lightening, which made Gilligan jump onto the Skipper's back. They struggled about for a little bit, until he threw Gilligan off his back.

"_Skipper, I need to check on everybody!"_

"_That's what I just said!"_

"_Then why won't you lemme go?"_

"_BECAUSE YOU'RE STILL HERE!"_

Gilligan gasped and ran right into the mast. He turned around with a silly grin, and fell, passed out, on the deck. The Skipper groaned, leaning down to pick up Gilligan. The mast swung around, hitting him in the head.

Skipper was out cold.

* * *

Mary Ann frowned. "Did you hear something?"

Ginger was doing her make-up, Professor was looking out the window. He looked at her and answered, "No. It may have been a barrell falling on deck." He turned back to the window. "It worries me that I can't see our captains. Do you think something's wrong?" He turned back around.

Ginger answered without looking up, "Probably not. They're experienced, they know what they're doing."

"True, but Gilligan's wounded. And I don't see either one of them from where I am, which is the crossing point between starboard and port meaning they're still near the mast and not the wheel, and the mast isn't directed for the wind to take us back home, meaning we're drifting _away_ from the Islands and not near-"

"Professor, can you possibly slow down and take a breath?"

"Of course. Gilligan and the Skipper haven't crossed this passage to and from the mast and wheel. The mast isn't in the direction it should be to take us home. The wheel is right above us, and I didn't hear anybody go up there. And if they did, they'd cross this passage."

"So?"

"So I haven't seen them in over a half hour. They're still near the mast."

"So we're drifting?!"

"At an angle. We probably shouldn't be too worried, they'll realize this and fix it."

"I hope so . . ."

Mary Ann sighed. This was an adventure she could have gone her entire life without. "When we get off this ship, I'm going to ask for my money back."

"As will I."

"My agent will take care of mine." Ginger put her make-up back in her purse.

The Howells continued snoring.

* * *

Gilligan woke up, his surroundings a blur. A voice kept calling to him, "Gilligan! GILLIGAN!"

He gasped and sat up. "Oh my gosh! Man over board!" He leapt off the side of the ship, calling, "I'll save you Skip-" He landed face-first into sand. "-er."

Skipper sighed and helped him up. "Gilligan, the Minnow's been beached!"

.f.

And that's our story. So this is the tale of the castaways,

They're here for a long, long time,

They'll have to make the best of things,

It's an uphill climb.

The first mate and the Skipper too,

Will do their very best,

To make the others comfortable,

In the tropic island nest.

No phone, no lights no motor cars,

Not a single luxury,

Like Robinson Crusoe,

As primative as can be.

So join us here each week my friends,

You're sure to get a smile,

From seven stranded castaways,

Here on Gilligan's Isle!


End file.
